


The Girl in the Portrait

by ignipes



Series: Winchesters at Hogwarts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-18
Updated: 2007-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old house has about a hundred rooms, and Sam is determined to explore them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl in the Portrait

He discovered the flower room on a rainy Thursday morning. His tutor Mr. Newtonberry was sick with a cold and stayed home. Sam was disappointed, because remembered when Dean had a cold and took Pepperup Potion last winter, and he had steam coming out of his ears all day, which was pretty cool. But when Grandma told him he didn't have to do any schoolwork all day he knew that was even better than steaming ears.

Sam decided to go exploring. The old house had so many rooms he couldn't count them all, even though he was seven years old and could count to a hundred or more if he wanted to. Some of them were very normal rooms, like bedrooms and bathrooms and the big kitchen where the house-elves made all the food, but some of them were so weird Sam had to ask Grandma or Grandpa what they were for whenever he found one. There was a room filled with nothing but clocks all set to different times, and another room that had windows on every wall even though it was in the middle of the house, and a room in the attic with a door that opened to another room in the cellar.

"The architect prided himself on his sense of humor, but not as much on his sense of utility," Grandpa said one day, when Sam asked why there were real live banana trees growing in the bathtub of the third floor bathroom.

Sam didn't know what that meant, but he did know that the house was the best place to explore he had ever been. Exploring wasn't as much fun with Dean away at Hogwarts, because Dean was better at finding the secret passages and trick bookshelves and hidden cupboards, and there were no ghosts or monsters in the house like the old houses in America that Dean told him about, the ones Dad used to investigate because they were hurting people, but there were still a lot of things to see.

When Mr. Newtonberry Floo'd into Grandma's sitting room to say he wouldn't be coming for Sam's lessons today, Sam immediately went to his room and gathered up his exploring things.

He had an old bag he could carry over his shoulder, and in it he put some snacks in case he got hungry, a sweater because some places in the house were very cold, an extra pair of socks in case the little sock-stealing creatures that lived in the cellar took them again (Dean lost five pairs of socks in the summer before they figured out what was happening), and a funny metal thing that was either a magical watch or a magical compass or maybe both. It was tarnished and old and the face was cracked, and it didn't work anymore, but it was magic, and you never knew when you might need a magical watch-compass, even a broken one. He also took the old blue toy parrot Dean had won for him at a carnival in Iowa a long time ago. It wasn't magical and didn't do anything special, but he liked to carry it with him anyway.

Sam went through some rooms he already knew first, just in case, because sometimes they changed without warning. He was very quiet. Grandma and Grandpa didn't like a lot of noise in their house, and Dean said it was important to practice walking around without making any noise so he could sneak up on people. He went through Grandpa's library, where Grandpa was reading in a big leather chair. Sam tried to sneak in behind the shelves, like a real explorer looking for tigers in the jungle, but Grandpa saw him anyway and smiled, and he gave Sam some Peppermint Toads "as extra rations, in case your expedition runs into trouble."

After the library Sam climbed the stairs and began peeking into all of the bedrooms. He and Dean had separate bedrooms but they were right next to each other, and sometimes in the night when the wind outside sounded like somebody crying Sam would sneak into Dean's room, or Dean would sneak in his, and then Sam wasn't so scared anymore. Sam still snuck into Dean's room sometimes, even though Dean was at Hogwarts and had a whole new room in the Hufflepuff dormitory with lots of other boys. In Dean's room it was easier to pretend he wasn't scared, even when it was stormy and dark outside. Dean was never scared of anything.

At the end of the hallway, Sam found a door he had never seen before. He was worried at first, because even in a magical house doors didn't usually pop out of nowhere, but he remembered that he wasn't going to be scared of anything either, so he grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

The door clicked open easily. Sam peeked around the door before slipping inside.

The room was bright and sunny, and it took Sam a moment to remember that it was raining outside today and the sun must be magic. There were windows, but he knew the windows had to be charmed because through them the moor was green with colorful flowers everywhere, not cold and gray like it was for real.

Sam stepped all the way into the room and looked around in awe. The whole room was filled with plants and flowers, every one of them in full bloom. There were roses and daisies and tulips and a million kinds of flowers he had never seen before, in every color of the rainbow. Some of them were even changing colors. Sam reached to touch a tulip that was turning from yellow to orange to red.

"Hello."

Startled, Sam gasped and snatched his hand back. He turned around, but there was nobody in the room.

"Over here, silly boy."

It was girl's voice, and it was coming from behind a big, green fern in the corner. Sam crept over slowly, holding his breath, and shoved some of the leaves aside.

There was a portrait behind the fern. It was a pretty girl with yellow hair, sitting on a stone bench in a garden. A tiny bluebird sang on a branch above her head, and the leaves of the trees in the paining were swaying in a breeze. The girl was wearing old-fashioned witch's robes, with lace trimmings and gold buttons, and she was holding a fancy, frilly umbrella.

Sam licked his lips nervously. He was almost used to talking portraits because there were tons of them all over the house, but he still thought it was pretty weird. (Dean thought it was weird too, and he always whispered when there were portraits watching.)

"Hi," he said. "I'm Sam."

"Hello, Sam," the girl said. "My name is Fiona." She sounded a little bit snobby, and she was looked over Sam's head like she expected to see someone else in the room. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," Sam said. "I'm exploring."

"Oh." The girl was disappointed. She snapped her fancy umbrella closed, startling the little bluebird into flying away, and sighed. "It's been a very long time since anyone has come to visit me," she said. "Sometimes I wondered if there was anybody about at all."

Sam thought it must be a very boring life, to be a portrait in a room that didn't even exist most of the time. "It's only me and Grandma and Grandpa," he told her. "And the house-elves. My brother is at Hogwarts. He's a Hufflepuff." Sam really liked to say the word "Hufflepuff" out loud.

"Is he?" Fiona smoothed her robes primly over her lap. "I expect my friend Mary is at Hogwarts too, and that's why she hasn't visited in some time."

Sam felt a funny lump in his throat. Mary was his mom's name, and she lived in this house when she was a little girl. But that was a very long time ago and maybe nobody told the portrait that she was gone. "She's not here," Sam said. He didn't want to say "dead"; he knew Mom and Dad were dead but it gave him a tummy ache to think about.

Fiona opened her fancy umbrella again and twirled it. "Oh, well," she said. "She used play music for me. Can you turn on the phonograph, please?"

"I don't know." Sam didn't know what that was, unless it was a word for a radio. He looked around and saw a funny-looking thing with a giant horn on the top sitting in one corner. There were buttons and switches on it, but no matter what he did it wouldn't turn on. "I don't know how to work it," he told Fiona. "I think it's broken."

"Of course you don't." Fiona smiled, but it wasn't a very nice smile. "You're just a little boy. You probably don't know how to dance at all."

Sam made a face. "Ew. Dancing is for girls."

"It is not!" Fiona said sharply. "That is, it's not only for girls. You don't know anything. Fine young men _must_ know how to dance."

"Then I hope I'm never a fine young man," Sam said. It was the exact same thing Dean had said when one of Grandma's friends was trying to tell him to wear fancy wizarding robes, and Sam thought dancing with girls was probably even worse than wearing silly robes.

Fiona went on as if she didn't hear him. "I danced with Phineas at Mrs. Presterton's Christmas Ball, and he danced so well I thought I might marry him. But then Rosabella saw him walking with that horrible Ursula Flint in Hogsmeade, and I would never marry a man who went walking with Ursula Flint."

Sam didn't care about who Fiona did or did not want to marry; he wanted to hear more about his mom. "Did your friend Mary like to dance?"

"Not _properly_," Fiona said. "She likes to run around like a wood nymph, but she doesn't know any real dances at all. Sometimes I think she just likes to spin around and around to make herself dizzy." Fiona sniffed disapprovingly. "She says she doesn't like balls so she doesn't have to know how to dance, but I know she'll change her mind when she's older."

Sam tried to imagine his mom dancing like a wood nymph�"whatever that was�"but it was very hard. He only knew what she looked like from pictures and he didn't remember her at all. He had a photograph of her and Dad in a frame in his room. Dean used to keep it in his room but he gave it to Sam the night before he went on the Hogwarts Express, because he said he could remember them without pictures but Sam should remember them too. Sam tried to remember, he really did, but in his thoughts Mom always looked like her photograph, still and silent even though she was smiling.

"Excuse me!" Fiona was saying something to him, and she sounded very upset. "You don't have any manners at all, do you?"

Sam looked up at her, annoyed; he didn't want to talk to her anymore. "What?"

"If you would be so kind, would you move this fern from in front of my frame? I would like to be able to see more than fronds."

He thought about saying no just because she was being mean to him, but Sam knew that wasn't right so he tugged the heavy pot until the fern was out of Fiona's way.

"Thank you," she said.

Sam nodded slowly like he saw Grandpa do sometimes. "You're welcome." He picked up his exploring bag and turned to leave.

"Wait! Are you going already?" Fiona's voice rose suddenly, almost like she was scared.

"It's time for lunch," Sam said. He didn't know if it was true and he felt bad about lying, but he wanted to leave. The smell of the flowers was making him a little dizzy. But Fiona looked so sad that he said, "I'll come back. I'll bring my brother Dean and he can turn on your... your phony-thing and play some music."

Fiona brightened. "Can he?"

"Yes." Sam knew Dean could fix anything. Once he fixed an old Atari they found in a dumpster and they played _Donkey Kong_ every day until Dad made them leave it behind in the motel. "We'll visit you again, I promise." He didn't tell her that sometimes there was no door to her room.

Fiona said good-bye with a wave of her hand, and Sam left the flower room. He was tired of exploring for the day, so he went downstairs to find Grandma. It was too early for lunch and Grandma was in her sitting room, reading a magazine while rain pattered on the window. She looked up when Sam came in.

"Hello, Sammy," she said. "Did you have fun exploring?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

He stood awkwardly beside her chair, looking at the dogs and horses moving in the pictures in her magazine. Grandma didn't like it when he and Dean asked lots of questions, so he only waited until she said, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

He took a deep breath and said very quickly, "Is there a picture of my mom? I mean the talking kind?"

Grandma lowered her magazine to her lap and didn't say anything for a long time. Sam thought she was angry, and he felt his face grow hot and wondered if he should apologize for asking.

"No," she said finally. She sounded very stiff, like the same way her friends did when they were mentioning how Sam's jeans were ripped or Dean's shoes were untied. "We never had one done."

"Oh." He looked down at the floor. "'m sorry."

"No," Grandma said, "it is natural for you to wonder. But you have to understand, even magical portraits are just paintings. Even when they look and sound like people, they aren't real people."

"I know." He did know; Dean had explained it to him when he was scared of the picture of the lion in one of the upstairs bedrooms. But he thought even a painting would be better than a regular Muggle photograph. One time Dean told him that Mom used to sing them silly songs when she walked them to the park, but he couldn't even remember what Mom's voice sounded like.

Grandma brushed her hand over Sam's hair. He hated it when she did that but he didn't squirm away. "Sometimes I wonder if things had been..." But she stopped herself, slapped her magazine shut, and sat forward in her chair. "I have errands for this afternoon, after lunch. Would you like to go to Diagon Alley with me?"

Sam looked up, excited, and quickly forgot about what Grandma had stopped herself from saying. "Yeah!"

Sam loved Diagon Alley. He thought it was the most magical place in the world, except maybe Hogwarts, and every time they went Grandma let him get a new coloring book at Flourish and Blotts as long as he also got a new book for lessons at the same time.

"Very well." Grandma stood up, and she was talking in that voice that sometimes made Sam wonder if she forgot he was a kid instead of a grown-up. "We'll have sandwiches, and then we'll go to London."

Sam ran upstairs to put his exploring things away. Later he would draw the flower room for Dean and tell him it was a new room he found exploring all by himself. Maybe Dean would make fun of him for drawing something so girly as a bunch of flowers, but Sam didn't care because he would get to use every color of crayon in the box all in one picture. Besides he could always put a dragon or a troll in the picture too, and maybe a girl with yellow hair dancing with them because she wasn't scared at all. He wouldn't tell Dean it was Mom, though, because that would only make Dean sad.

When he went back downstairs for lunch, he asked, "Can I send a letter to Dean when we get back?" Grandma never said no, but he wasn't allowed to use the owl without asking.

"Of course," Grandma said. "Do you have something to tell him?"

Sam bit his lip. "No. Just a picture."

Grandma didn't smile very often, but she smiled then. "I'm sure he'll like that."

Sam hoped so.


End file.
